


Yrden

by tomanonuniverse



Series: Geralt Fluff Week 2020 [5]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Geralt Fluff Week (The Witcher), Geralt Fluff Week 2020, M/M, Magic, Witcher Signs (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25821655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomanonuniverse/pseuds/tomanonuniverse
Summary: Geralt Fluff Week 2020 Day Five: MagicFor a moment, Geralt falters, watching those wide pools of cornflower blue gleam far too brightly than they have any right to. The bard is almost trembling, seemingly genuinely interested in seeing Geralt’s abilities just for curiosity’s sake and not because he wants to map out witchers’ capabilities and dig for weaknesses.It gives Geralt an idea.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geralt Fluff Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869967
Comments: 4
Kudos: 161





	Yrden

**Author's Note:**

> give me playful smugass geralt dammit
> 
> i was originally gonna do sth sweet with Yen for this but between Yen and Jask... u kno i had to do it to em

It’s been weeks and the bard still hasn’t left. He doesn’t know what to make of him just yet, despite all the time they’ve been forced to spend together because of the annoying troubadour’s insistence on accompanying Geralt. The man seems to think that the Path is some grand adventure. It almost makes the witcher chuckle, if it wasn’t so sad.

So far, he had been careful not to perform any signs in front of his leech of a travelling companion. It was clear the bard knew fuck all about witchers, nothing beyond the rumors he and every other human have heard of the mutants. Geralt wanted it to stay that way, wanted to have something up his sleeve, just in case.

But as they’re packing up their things and leaving their campfire, Geralt absent-mindedly quells the flames with a quick reverse from his Igni. He does it all the time, it’s nothing worth of note to him, but as soon as he hears a loud and intrigued gasp from behind him, he curses under his breath, caught red-handed.

“Geralt, what was that?” The bard practically demands, his voice wavering in disbelief and slight excitement. “Geralt.  _ Geralt,  _ don’t ignore me, what was that? How did you do that?  _ Geralt—!” _

The witcher growls, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s fucking  _ magic,  _ Jaskier,” he answers sharply, tempted to punch the bard in the gut again. It was too early for this human’s seemingly unending onslaught of energy. Geralt has never in his eighty seven years of living met anyone with so much energy.  _ Looking  _ at the bard exhausts him.

His reply does nothing to snuff out that energy. In fact, Jaskier’s eyes twinkle and he grins.  _ “Magic?  _ Witchers can do  _ magic?!” _ He exclaims, far too hyped for something that was nothing more than mere normality to the White Wolf. “So not  _ only  _ are you crazy strong and incredibly attractive, but you can also do  _ magic?  _ How is that  _ fair?” _

Electing to ignore his second comment, Geralt sighs, knowing he’s dug his own grave in his carelessness. “We’re not sorcerers, Jaskier,” he corrects tiredly, massaging his temples in an attempt to rub out his everlasting migraine. “We can only do specific spells, called signs. They’re nothing major, just something to help us when we need it.”

Jaskier skips over to him and beams.  _ “Show me!” _

For a moment, Geralt falters, watching those wide pools of cornflower blue gleam far too brightly than they have any right to. The bard is almost trembling, seemingly genuinely interested in seeing Geralt’s abilities just for curiosity’s sake and not because he wants to map out witchers’ capabilities and dig for weaknesses.

It gives Geralt an idea. 

He sighs again if only to make his show more believable. “Alright. The sign you just saw me do is called Igni. It gives me brief control over flames, more or less,” he begins to explain, keeping his words simple and pace slow in order to keep the bard’s attention. It isn’t much of a challenge because Jaskier just eagerly nods.

“Another one we can do is one called Axii. It, for lack of better words, allows me to bend someone’s will for a short period of time,” he continues, watching the bard cautiously. Jaskier tilts his head, brows furrowed in obvious confusion. Geralt grunts in thought, then raises his head. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

The White Wolf turns to a particularly noisy bird settled in a branch above their heads. His hand goes through the familiar motion of Axii as he speaks.  _ “Shut the fuck up.” _

And so it does.

The bird, which had been singing up a storm above their heads and quite frankly annoying the shit out of Geralt, falls eerily silent almost immediately. Jaskier’s jaw drops and he blinks owlishly, glancing between Geralt and the bird in disbelief. “Woah,” he finally settles on saying, then shoots the witcher a wide, impressed smile.

Geralt blinks at that. He wasn’t aiming to  _ impress  _ the bard, but he won’t lie to himself and pretend it didn’t feel good to be looked at with wonder rather than disgust or fear. He expected questions, rapid-fire inquires about each sign, but Jaskier only patiently motioned for him to go on with his hands.

He raises a brow but does so anyway. So far, so good. “This,” he says, casting Quen around himself and watching Jaskier’s eyes widen at the sudden explosion of color, “is called Quen. We call it the witcher’s shield. It protects us from certain attacks, like a bruxa’s sonic wave for example, but not physical harm.”

Jaskier nods, mouth agape and eyes wide. Geralt covers his snort with a cough. He has no doubt in his mind that Jaskier has no idea what the hell a bruxa is, but he’s enjoying this too much to inform him about it. He’s rendered the mouthy bard speechless, and that’s an achievement he will bask in while he still can.

As Quen wears off, he hums in thought, wondering how to display his next sign. He looks to the ground and hums again. “Jaskier, go stand there, above that pile of leaves,” he orders, pointing the bard to where he meant. Wordlessly does the man obey and go where directed. Geralt blinks, not knowing what to do with that either.

Instead of watching the other jitter in his place, waiting for Geralt to do something, the witcher simply casts a quick Aard at his feet. The leaves and twigs instantly fly upwards and Jaskier yelps in surprise at the sudden gust of dirt that shoves itself in his face. Geralt fights back his smirk and says: “That was Aard. It’s a… telekinetic wave of sorts. Mostly used to daze and knock monsters back.”

...Jaskier isn’t even listening to him, he’s looking at the leaves that slowly fall back to the floor and giggling, clearly entertained. “Cool,” he murmurs to himself, pulling twigs out of his hair and looking at them like  _ they  _ held the magic that blew them upwards. When he finally looks back to Geralt, it almost catches him off guard, how  _ open  _ and  _ trusting  _ his expression is. It almost makes him feel bard for what he's about to do.

The witcher shakes his head to clear his thoughts and smirks for his final act. “This is the last one,” he informs Jaskier, who practically begins to vibrate in response. He most likely thinks the witcher saved the best for last, which he did, in a way. 

He walks forward and kneels in front of the bard. Drawing Yrden on the ground, he stands back up and watches it rise with him. Jaskier literally  _ “oooh” _ s at the purple barrier that glows around himself, not at all concerned as to what it may be. “This is called Yrden,” Geralt says, once he finds his voice, “it slows and keeps monsters in it.”

Jaskier tilts his head and reaches his hand forward, trying to push past the barrier and failing. “So it’s a trap, essentially?” He inquires, and Geralt  _ relishes  _ in the way realization dawns on his face the moment the words leave his lips.

“It is,” the witcher confirms, sauntering over to Roach and mounting her quickly. The trap doesn’t last long once triggered, which Jaskier had unknowingly done when trying to escape it. He gently urges the mare to move and spares a glance behind him to see what had become of the unsuspecting bard.

As he expected, his face was morphed into absolute disbelief, and holding back laughter had never been so hard. “Geralt, wait a second, how long does this one last?!” He exclaims, knowing full well the other doesn’t intend to answer. “Hey, don’t  _ leave me! Geralt!  _ There’s  _ wild animals  _ in this forest! I’ll  _ die _ if you leave me here by myself like this! Are you  _ listening?! Geralt!” _

He  _ could  _ kick Roach’s pace into something faster and hightail it out of there, as he was originally planning on doing. But he doesn’t, and he barely makes two meters of distance when he hears the thudding of feet sprinting to catch up to him. The pout on the bard’s face is definitely worth it, or so he reasons with himself, despite how much it sounds more like an excuse than anything.


End file.
